Been listening to my old almost-alma mater radio station today. Saucy 21-year-old end-0f-semester “indie” ladies’ wry voices on their DJ breaks cutting in after they mangle their transitions off of cuts from Tusk…. charming!
I am enjoying work today. (Coffee)
THE NEXT DAY….
I DIDN’T SLEEP VERY MUCH. THIS A.M. I PUT A PIECE OF TOAST IN MY PANTS AND ROLLED MYSELF INTO A CARPET AND ROLLED MYSELF TO WORK. THERE ARE NO CINNAMONS FOR “ROLLED.” THERE IS NO CINNABON IN THE MISSION. MY DOG HATES ME. I DREW A PICTURE OF A CHAPEL ON MY STOMACH IN LIPSTICK. I AM LISTENING TO “BOY FROM NYC” BY THE AD LIB. JUST ME AND THAT DOG IN THE OFFICE. BREADSTIXXXXXXX SAYS I SHOULD TRY TO BE MORE LIKE CATHYRN WHEN I’M WRITING ON MY WEBSITE. I COULDN’T AGREE MORE. I ALSO COULDN’T AGREE LESS. I CAN ONLY AGREE THIS PRECISE AMOUNT, FOREVER